*Probably not a good idea to read if you’re feeling a bit shit klaxon*
For the past while, I’ve been on a mission of discovery. Or something. My mind has been opened to other, unchartered territories for helping myself get out of this dark, ugly mess. Cutting out caffeine and sugar and other such chemicals made of evil, albeit making me utterly murderous, will eventually make me happier, apparently. Healthy eating – I came this close to buying an Abel & Cole box. Mindfulness and meditation, I bought a book, haven’t read it yet, obvs, it’s proper good for squashing gnats with however. And I went to one class where I almost gave myself a panic attack because I slipped into such a strange daze, I’d forgotten how to Inhale on one, exhale on two, inhale on three, exhale on four. Oh and exercise. Yeah. Erm. Still working on that one. Being more social, less hiding away, keeping busy, keeping busy, must keep busy. All that with some new, hardcore happy pills and regular trips to the therapist by the cover of darkness.
I should be tap dancing around on the dining table by now, right? Or at least getting my tap shoes ready for a jolly little jig…?
Quite the opposite. All this constant focus on being happy, being proactive and organised and oooh, let’s bake cakes! is quite frankly soul-destroying when your heart’s just not in it and all of this is just too painful to even stay awake. Rather than gaining some kind of enlightenment, some new understanding, some something, all I’ve gained is world-wide indifference.
I appear to have come to a weird realisation. And I’m not sure how else to say it, or say it in a way that makes it sound less bad. Because it is bad. I know that.
I’m struggling to care.
I don’t care.
As a result, I’m finding myself missing pills, skipping appointments, binge drinking can after can of Coke, I know, I’m a right devil, not looking after myself and generally being a big bundle of not giving a shit. Finding myself in a desperate attempt to sabotage everything I can and every last chance of happiness that I’ve been clinging on to.
And I know what happens now, it happened earlier today in fact with my mum, Well, if you don’t care about you, at least care about Noah and Rob.
Thing is though, Noah doesn’t see this. The tears are hidden, the apathy that engulfs me is reserved for when he’s not around and for the little time I see him now he’s at school, he’s simply none the wiser.
I appreciate this isn’t good. Yet I can’t stress enough that I’m unable to just flip a switch and turn my caring back up to eleven and off I trot towards the sunset. I will do anything without question for Noah, the only reason I’m sat at this table right this moment is because of Bean, and the reason I continue to fight this when I have absolutely nothing left is due to him.
But what happens when this part of me that feels so much bigger than I can ever be, this part I feel I have no control over, no say in the matter overtakes everything else? What happens when it’s more powerful than even the love I have for my little boy and anything I can use to defend myself looks laughable in comparison? What happens when the caring, the love and the fierce protection I have for my son, is dwarfed by the not caring and the apathy that I have for everything else?
What happens then?